


Beauty of Speed

by esoemp



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bit of Fluff, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Friends to Lovers, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post TFP, Voyeurism, car kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:17:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10525857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esoemp/pseuds/esoemp
Summary: Sherlock and John take a joyride in Mrs. Hudson's Aston Martin. Dirty shenanigans ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware in the show Mrs. Hudson’s Aston Martin is a V8 but does not have a manual transmission (stick shift) but please let’s pretend it does because I have NEEDS.

 

“You told her this was for a case?” John snickered incredulously as he plopped unceremoniously in the passenger seat. “You can’t tell me she seriously bought that.”

Sherlock swung into the driver’s seat with all the grace of a jungle cat alighting on a heavy branch and rolled his eyes. “I told her it was for an experiment.” As though _that_ should have been the end of the matter in question.

“You didn’t tell her. You didn’t tell her we are taking a _joyride_ in her Aston Martin.” It was not a question. Mrs. Hudson was going to murder them in their sleep. Well, most likely John, but if John was very lucky, she’d be able to catch Sherlock post case when the detective slept like the dead.

Sherlock turned the key in the ignition and the engine just _purred_. And if Sherlock didn’t already look like sex with a gun, his profile in a sportscar was a close second. He revved the engine a couple times and quirked an eyebrow at John. “Problem?”

John answered with a click of his seat belt and giggled. “None whatsoever. It’s only fair I suppose.”

“Only fair why?” Sherlock looked amused.

“Because I, John Watson, drove her first.”

Sherlock snorted before shifting the vehicle into gear and peeling out of the parking lot. As they careened through the moderate traffic John became increasingly nervous. Sure he liked danger, but putting innocent pedestrians at risk wasn’t really his style. Several times John found himself pressing his foot into the floorboard wishing he could hit the breaks just a bit. Wincing after a particularly close call with a red traffic light, John found himself ready to turn to his friend and suggest perhaps he calm down. But then John saw the _look_ on Sherlock’s face. It was practically maniacal with glee, and John decided why the hell not. Let the man have his fun. Sherlock might not do sex, and this might not have the excitement of a case, but his expression was a very near thing to the one he wore when the two of them chased an armed serial killer through particularly sordid back alleys.

“This won’t do at all,” Sherlock muttered finally with a frown.

“What’s that? You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“This vehicle can go from 0 to 60 in 4.6 seconds with a top speed of 190mph, John,” Sherlock answered ruefully, as though John was any expert on the matter. “We need to go somewhere more open.” Sherlock rounded a corner towards the A40. “Chiltern Hills I think.”

“Want to see what she can really do, do you?” John smirked. “Never took you to be a car man.”

“I’m not a ‘car man’,” Sherlock scoffed with disdain. “This is a work of engineering ingenuity--practically a functional work of art--and I intend to simply,” he gritted his teeth as he took another turn, “conduct an experiment to see how well it performs.”

John snorted. “Yeah, ok, why don’t you just say you want to drive really, _really_ fast, Sherlock. There’s no shame in being one of the boys. Besides, you’ve probably seen the footage of Mrs. Hudson’s performance on the telly so you already know damn well what this car can handle.” John couldn’t help but add, “of course it was probably different riding in the boot. Christ, I wasn’t sure if you were trembling because you were high or terrified of her driving.”

“I wasn’t terrified of her driving,” Sherlock denied as they took an exit. “I was merely--”

“Absolutely fucking spare,” John finished for him. “Oh my god, your _face_ , Sherlock.” He scrubbed his own at the memory. “If I hadn’t been so angry I would have felt sorry--” John stopped when he saw the taut line of Sherlock’s jaw. “Sorry,” John offered weakly.

“No apologies necessary, John. You had every right to be angry,” Sherlock managed and swallowed thickly. The incident with Culverton was still a bit fresh for both men. Though Eurus had provided a more than adequate distraction, it had only been six months since the nightmare at Sherrinford following Mary’s death. Both men were still in the process of healing, and John hoped their joyride might be just what they needed for some levity. As it was, Rosie was with Mrs. Hudson at the moment being doted on and probably filled with an unadvisable number of biscuits. Most surprising to John was the way Sherlock doted on Rosie. While the great git had been too distracted to pay any attention at her christening, Mycroft had sniffed about Sherlock’s insistence his brother should look at her photo _on Sherlock’s phone_. That had earned Sherlock major brownie points with John as it was, but then he’d caught Sherlock with Rosie unawares. The detective had taken to instructing Rosie on the necessity of observing rather than guessing, and shared his excitement about her upcoming milestone of understanding the concept of object permanence. This while he gleefully demonstrated her lack thereof by playing peekaboo. When he noticed John gaping in the doorway Sherlock feigned mock irritation at her lack of comprehension, but John caught the fond smile on his friend’s face. Yes, even with Mary gone, Rosie would be alright.

Finally, _finally_ Sherlock seemed to have found a proper “course” for his Aston Martin Experiment, and he turned to John and grinned before jamming his foot on the pedal. The sportscar roared to life and seemed happy for the exercise.

Now that they weren’t within city limits John could relax and enjoy the ride.

“Like that, do you?” Sherlock smirked as he took a particularly challenging curve with ease. The car actually drifted a bit, and John realized he wasn’t sure if Sherlock was talking to his flatmate or Mrs. Hudson’s car.

“Yeah,” John began carefully, “she is...lovely.” The adrenaline rush seemed to have triggered something in his autonomic system and John actually felt his trousers getting a bit tight at the seams. Sherlock’s deep baritone only exacerbated the problem, and his question, which wasn’t really a question, had done some strange things in John’s mind. “Like that do, you?” coming from Sherlock’s mouth sounded filthy in the best kind of way. He swallowed nervously.

Sherlock chuckled darkly and John prayed the man hadn’t read his thoughts. So far John had managed to quell his romantic interest in his flatmate, because, well, this was Sherlock, and while it had been ages since John got laid, that ship had sailed. If it ever had sails. Which John was reasonably certain, if Sherlock had a ship, it only had sails for Irene Adler. Her infernal texts sent spikes of jealously in John. He still couldn’t believe how he’d practically begged Sherlock to shag The Woman after learning she knew Sherlock’s birthday. _John_ hadn’t even known Sherlock’s birthday, and it was mystifying why Sherlock would share it with the dominatrix if he’d had no intention to bed the manipulative cow. Ok. Now John was getting aggravated. He thanked god if Sherlock had the ability to observe John just then, the man would likely attribute the flush of his cheeks to the chemically induced high of speed.

But then Sherlock shifted gears and John looked down and sucked in a breath. Sherlock wasn’t gripping the knob of the gearshift from the top. No, he just had to be gripping the...shaft. Sherlock released it and spun the wheel with practiced motion.

“Have much experience then?” John nearly croaked after clearing his throat.

“Hmm?” Sherlock queried then finally offered, “a friend from Uni had a porsche and insisted I take it out for a spin.” He sighed and grabbed the gear shift--again, not with the bloody knob, flicking his thumb over the...head. “Honestly it astounds me. He named it, John. He _named_ it. Why people anthropomorphize animals is already bizarre.”

“A friend?” John perked up at that. Sherlock executing perfect control over a rare specimen of any car was not surprising--Sherlock was a fast learner about, well everything--but the idea of him having a friend at Uni, one close enough to do anything so mundane as driving a fast car was unimaginable.

“Well, I say a friend, but it is more appropriate to say an acquaintance,” Sherlock scoffed, but then John noticed the way Sherlock’s palm stroked--stroked!--the length and ball of the shift. To his horror John felt his cock twitch with interest.

“Ah. Well.” John cleared his throat again, attempting to wrest his gaze away from the long fingers encircling the gear shift. But as he drew his eyes upward to the rest of Sherlock’s body he saw something that made his mouth water. Sherlock had...well, he had an erection. The ridge of his cock was _clearly_ visible against the detective’s bespoke trousers, and John both thanked and cursed his maker Sherlock had chosen not to wear black that day, lest the doctor be denied the sight. _Oh God. Oh Jesus._ Sherlock bloody Holmes was getting hard driving a sports car. It was by sheer force of will John managed not to whimper and look at the detective’s face, which was currently facing John instead of the road.

“It’s perfectly normal, John,” Sherlock said dismissively, though his eyes were narrowed, undoubtedly appraising John’s widened eyes with dilated pupils. Sherlock had certainly noticed John’s state of arousal, which was frankly hard to miss. And Sherlock never missed _anything_ in his field of vision. “You know what Mario Andretti said about such things,” he added offhandedly as he turned back to survey the road.

“Who?” John squeaked and shook his head. “Wait, the racecar driver?”

“Yes, John. Do keep up.”

“Ok, what did he say about ‘such things’,” John asked in annoyance.

Sherlock looked back at John with a wicked grin and _growled_ , “If everything seems under control, you aren’t going _fast enough_.” The man actually gripped the shift with serious force and jammed on the gas. The Aston Martin lurched forward and John hoped his brain would receive the message he still required oxygen. All his blood seemed to have taken a direct route to his prick and there was no way, none at all now, that Sherlock wasn’t aware of the effect this experience was having on John. He found himself squirming in his seat.

A chuckle rumbled through Sherlock’s chest and he dipped his hand into the pocket of his suit jacket, producing a handkerchief and dropping it in John’s lap. “You can take care of that if you want.”

John blinked back at Sherlock owlishly. “No. Sherlock, I can’t just have a wank in front of you.” _And in Mrs. Hudson’s car._

“Well, I would help but I have my hands full at the moment.” Sherlock grinned evilly and added, “I won’t watch, if that’s your concern. It must be getting nearly painful now.”

“Is this...is this a game to you? Because I don’t think this is funny.” John was incredulous. And exceedingly frustrated, because the idea of jerking off while watching Sherlock drive was a dream come true, one he hadn’t realized even existed. Until this moment anyway.

“No, a game would be if I suggested you stroke your cock faster when I speed up and slower when I take some more turns.” Sherlock quirked his eyebrow and John could practically hear the ‘obviously’ the man left unspoken. John wanted to _scream_. The gauntlet had been thrown, and if John Watson was anything, he was not a coward.

“Right,” John said simply and unzipped his flies, hearing the sharp intake of breath from the driver. The cool air on John’s skin made him hiss and he gave his prick a long pull.

“Take off your trousers and spread your legs, John.” Sherlock ordered imperiously.

“Oi, I thought you weren’t going to watch,” John answered, but his tone was teasing, coy even. His blood _sang_. This was fucking hot.

“Do you not want me to watch?” Sherlock asked and swallowed nervously. Ah, how the tables had turned. The man was apprehensive now. _Perfect._

“Do as you like.” John tried for his best attempt at nonchalance but his voice came out thick as he wriggled his jeans and pants down to his ankles. His cock bobbed enthusiastically at the newfound freedom and John spread his legs, feeling whorish but incredibly thrilled. This. Was. Happening.

Sherlock glanced out of the corner of his eye and slowed the car. John took the cue and positioned himself where he could be in full view of Sherlock as he ran his thumb over his slit, distributing the leaking pre-come over his head and shaft. John bit his lip to quell his moan and tipped his head back at the sensation.

“Let me hear you, John.” Sherlock said huskily and sped up again. John let out an undignified whimper and opened his eyes. Sherlock was _panting_.

“Oh...Jesus, Sherlock. The things I would do…” John babbled as he jerked harder.

Sherlock slid his eyes back over to John’s lap then darted back to his face and returned to the road.

“What...things, John?”

John grinned, glad he wasn’t the only one affected. “I want to taste your mouth,” he groaned, “Before you suck me.”

Now it was Sherlock’s turn to whimper and John continued, “Wouldn’t--ah!--give you my come then though. Not the first time. You're going to beg for it.” Sherlock took a turn and John slowed his hand to grip his shaft as he fondled his bollocks with the other.

“Oh, _John_.”

“Would you like that, sucking me?” John wanted to hear more. Sherlock’s voice was pure sex and John was beyond desperate to find out what other filthy things Sherlock might let him do.

Sherlock’s eyelashes fluttered and he gripped the gear shift and wheel with white knuckles. He barely managed a nod as he punched the accelerator again.

“Tell me, Sherlock. What else would you let me do? Would you let me fuck you? Pound my cock in your arse?”

An obscene sort of whine issued from Sherlock’s mouth as he bit down on his lower lip hard.  

“Tell me, Sherlock. I want to _hear_ you _say it_ . Do you want to feel me inside you?” _Please. Christ, say it. Say yes, Sherlock._

“God, John,” Sherlock pleaded, “Yes. God yes.”

“Fuck yeah. I would make you feel so good, Sherlock. I love the way you say my name. I’ll make you _scream_ it… _take you apart_...”

Sherlock squirmed in his seat some more and took another turn. “Don’t stop. John, _please don’t stop_.” His hips undulated and John could tell Sherlock was desperately seeking friction for his aching cock.

As for John, he was harder than he’d ever been in his life. He was already feeling the first flicker of electricity coiling tight in his spine and slightly hysterical about this new reality. “God, you are so gorgeous. You know that right? I want to mark your neck with my mouth. I want people to know. Know that you are _mine_.”

Sherlock _mewled_ and struggled not to close his eyes.

“Fuck, that is beautiful. If your hands weren’t otherwise occupied I’d ask you to unbutton that ridiculously tight shirt so I could see whether your nipples were hard. Are they? Are they hard right now, Sherlock?”

Sherlock’s wrecked expression was answer enough but John pushed anyway, “Tell me, luv.”

“Yes, John.” Sherlock nearly sobbed and that sent another wave of heat straight to John’s cock.  

“Christ. I want to taste them so badly, Sherlock. You are so bloody perfect.” John winced. “Speed up again. I’m so close…”

Sherlock obeyed and John stroked faster. “Fuck. When I come, I want you to pull this car over immediately. Am I clear, Sherlock?”

Sherlock nodded fervently. Obviously his brain was too shorted out to protest.

John fucked his fist in earnest and moaned as his vision went gray. “On second thought you should probably pull over now. You want to watch me come, don’t you?”

Sherlock jerked the car to the side of the road and put the vehicle in park. He began to unbutton his trousers. “No. You watch. You watch me, Sherlock. I want you to see what you do to me. Your cock... _your_ cock is _mine_.”

“John. _Please_.” Sherlock cried out, his face contorted in agony and John felt the rush of blood in his ears as he came spurting into the handkerchief, his eyes locked on Sherlock’s the entire time. Sherlock looked like he was going to jump John right then, and the doctor was too boneless to stop him. He held up his hand.

“Give me a minute,” John laughed, still giddy from the rush of getting Sherlock so wound up. He had plans, and he needed the tingling in his legs to calm down before said plans could be implemented. Sherlock’s eyes darted to the handkerchief and he licked his lips hungrily. “You want this back, don’t you?” John huffed.

Sherlock nodded and his fingers twitched against the dash. He was completely at John’s mercy now. “Alright, you filthy creature. On one condition.”

“Anything.” Sherlock’s answer was absolute.

“I want you to lay back in your seat like a good pet. Pull down your trousers and pants and spread your legs as far as you can.”

Sherlock’s eyes went utterly black, with only the faintest sliver of verdigris surrounding his pupils. He complied with a haste that would have been comical had John not been so eager. Sherlock’s cock was swollen and leaking and John felt his mouth water.

John leaned forward, suppressing his irritation at the discomfort of the console poking into his stomach. Sherlock _needed_ him. The man looked like he might die if he didn’t come soon. John wrapped a hand around Sherlock’s neck to pull him forward, their mouths only an inch apart. Sherlock closed his eyes and John pressed his lips to his friend’s. Sherlock’s lips were warm and pliant, just lovely and plush, and John licked into Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock breathed a needy whine into the kiss and John moaned in approval.

“Beautiful,” John murmured against the corner of Sherlock’s mouth when they finally broke apart for air. John ran the ridge of his fingernail up Sherlock’s thigh and his friend gasped.

“Please,” Sherlock begged, his eyes beseeching. “ _Please_ , touch me.”

John growled and surged forward to reclaim Sherlock’s mouth, gripping the other man’s cock firmly. John wove his fingers into Sherlock’s hair and squeezed, before pulling Sherlock’s head back, exposing that long neck. “Do not come yet, Sherlock,” John ordered firmly as he ran his thumb over the slit of Sherlock’s prick. John licked a stripe over Sherlock’s carotid, feeling the pulse under his tongue. “Jesus, you taste so good. I wonder...would you like me to taste this?” John gripped Sherlock’s cock meaningfully and his friend bucked his hips into John’s fist. “Tell me, Sherlock,” John prompted.

Sherlock swallowed hard and gulped for air. “Please...please suck me, John. I need... _please_.” The detective’s cheekbones flushed scarlet and John was undone.

John bent down and swallowed Sherlock to the root. Sherlock’s prick was hot and thick in John’s mouth, and blissfully perfect. It had been a long time since John had given a man head, but he was damn good at it. Sherlock _wailed_.

“I won’t. I w-won’t last long. _John!_ ”

John hummed appreciatively and swirled his tongue over Sherlock’s glans, then flicked it over his frenulum. Sherlock made an abortive thrust and moaned again.

John backed away and Sherlock whined at the loss of heat. “Give it to me, Sherlock. Give me your come.” John growled and Sherlock balled his hands into fists at his sides. John grabbed a wrist and guided Sherlock’s fingers into his hair. Sherlock nodded minutely and John descended on his friend’s cock again, hollowing his cheeks and moaning in pleasure. John managed to run his fingers up Sherlock’s chest and squeezed a hardened nipple. Sherlock cried out, and John felt another gush of pre-come on his tongue.

“Ah! John...S-so good. Yes…Love-AH!...I’m about to come!” Sherlock chanted as finally his body drew tight and he muttered, “ _Fuck_ ,” before screaming John’s name and convulsively squeezing John’s hair in his fingers. John reveled in the flavor of bitter-salty-sweet inundating his mouth as Sherlock’s cock pulsed against his tongue. _Delicious_ , was all John could think as he swallowed the other man’s seed, grateful for the gift that had been offered. He would be wanking to this for _years_. John continued to suckle as Sherlock panted above him until he knew Sherlock was about to become oversensitive. Regretfully John pulled away and sat up. Sherlock looked deeply into his friend’s eyes before pulling John forward for a bruising kiss. Sherlock hummed against John’s lips and it was John’s turn to whimper. Jesus, he loved this man. This perfect, brilliant madman. Like no other. John had loved Mary, but his affection for Sherlock was bone deep. The man practically had a tattoo on John’s heart.

“John…?” Sherlock asked after he pulled away, his eyes searching John’s.

“Yes,” John answered with a smile and cupped Sherlock’s cheek tenderly. “Yes,” he said again as Sherlock’s eyes gleamed wetly in the moonlight. The words didn’t need to be said really. Not between them until they were home at Baker Street.

Sherlock huffed a surprised laugh. “Mrs. Hudson is really going to kill us.”

John giggled and Sherlock offered the openly genuine smile that was for John alone, before he too descended into giddy laughter.

“Home?” Sherlock asked tentatively and John understood exactly what Sherlock meant.

“Home.”

 

**********

 

John watched Sherlock as he rode back to Baker Street in the not-but-kind-of-stolen Aston Martin, thanking god and Rosie that Mrs. Hudson wasn’t likely to be waiting for them outside the parking lot with a weapon. Both men were fiercely proud and fond of their not-your-landlady, but respectful enough to be afraid if caught. Sherlock stopped for petrol, just in case she’d notice and John convinced him it was Not Good to attempt to roll back the odometer. John wished Sherlock didn’t have to use the stick shift, as he might have managed to hook a finger around Sherlock’s along the way back. They arrived at 221B only to find Mrs. Hudson waiting for them in the entryway. She cocked an eyebrow at them and pursed her lips as she tapped her foot on the floorboards. Both men found themselves shuffling, studiously avoiding her appraisal. John felt very much like a teenager and he could only imagine what punishment lay in store. How she knew what they’d done John could only imagine fell into the mystical realm of a mother’s intuition. That and perhaps she’d noticed Sherlock had nicked her keys.

“Boys,” she began and they raised their heads. She held out her hand and Sherlock bashfully deposited the keys to the Aston Martin in her palm. “Rosie is already asleep, so you two should go up and get some rest.” Her eyes glittered with mischief and pleasure. Perhaps they weren’t to hear of their punishment just yet, but then again perhaps she knew what they’d really been up to. John’s ears burned and he knew he was blushing then.

Sherlock nodded and ascended the bottom stair before turning around and glancing back at John, extending his hand in silent question. If Mrs. Hudson wasn’t sure before, she would have no doubts now. But strangely, that was ok.

John smiled tentatively and thanked Mrs. Hudson with a nod and took Sherlock’s hand. They walked in silence up the stairs and went through their former nightly routine of preparing for bed in the loo. The Fall had been so long ago, and John had missed this bit of easy companionship with his best friend. John took a moment to peek in at Rosie sleeping in her crib in his old room. He touched her face tenderly before retreating back downstairs. Sherlock was waiting for him in the kitchen, fidgeting in place. After a couple moments he took a deep breath and met John’s gaze in question. He extended his hand again and John took it without hesitation. Sherlock led John into his bedroom, where they snuggled under the covers. Sherlock draped himself possessively over John’s chest and John ran his fingers through the nest of curls on Sherlock’s head, feeling content for perhaps the first time in his life. He was home.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much WendyMarlowe for her beta work and encouragement! I worship you. <3


End file.
